


Basic Instincts

by draculard



Category: Star Wars: Dark Legends - George Mann, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alpha Eli Vanto, Animal Transformation, Blood and Injury, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Knotting, Loss of Control, Lupal (Star Wars), M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Overstimulation, Planetary Expeditions Gone Very Very Wrong, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violent Sex, Watersports, Were-Creatures, Werewolf Eli Vanto, Wetting, subservience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: “Don’t let the legends frighten you,” Thrawn said, his voice warm and the most patronizing Eli had ever heard it. “You’re perfectly safe here, Commander Vanto. I won’t let any harm come to you.”Eli scoffed, turning to the shuttle door with a roll of his eyes.“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sir,” he muttered.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Basic Instincts

**Author's Note:**

> Is this good? Is this bad? It's manic and it's filthy and it's got way too many em-dashes, that's what it is.

“We’ll be perfectly safe,” Thrawn assured Eli. He handed one of the capsules over and Eli took it at once, holding it up to the shuttle light to examine its contents. “This will counteract any negative health effects from the solar flares,” Thrawn explained. “The last several expeditions to Lupal have had no casualties.”

Eli grimaced, swallowing the pill dry. He hated when Thrawn pulled the ‘no recent casualties’ line on him to justify another dangerous trip. Picking up his datapad, he scanned their objectives, unable to keep a sour look off his face.

“You disapprove?” asked Thrawn mildly, one eyebrow raised.

Eli eyed him over the edge of the screen. “That a serious question, sir?”

Thrawn held his stare for a moment and then casually looked back out the viewport, pretending to be so engrossed with landing the shuttle that he couldn’t answer Eli’s questions.

“It just seems like an awful big risk, sir,” Eli complained. “Especially since it’s just for art.”

He could see the line of Thrawn’s shoulders stiffen.

“The artwork we find here may be invaluable to us in our fight against the Rebels,” Thrawn said. “Especially that left behind by the moon’s Lasat residents; precious little of their culture remains elsewhere now.”

The shuttle landed gently, the shocks absorbing most of the impact. Eli held onto his harness straps until the shuttle floor had settled underneath him and Thrawn had switched the engine off. Silently, they unbuckled their harnesses and stood, each of them maneuvering around the other to find the empty packsacks they would hopefully be filling up with artifacts before the day was out.

Thrawn adjusted the strap on his packsack over the white lapels of his uniform and looked down at Eli. A faint smile touched his lips.

“Don’t let the legends frighten you,” Thrawn said, his voice warm ... and the most patronizing Eli had ever heard it. “You’re perfectly safe here, Commander Vanto. I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Eli scoffed, turning to the shuttle door with a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sir,” he muttered.

He hit the door release and stepped out into the red light of the dying Lupal star.

* * *

They picked over the first settlement within two hours, each of them wincing every time the red solar light flared over the horizon. There was something about it, Thrawn thought, that didn’t sit right with him. It hurt his eyes more than it should have, he supposed — or it made his skin tingle slightly — or it made his limbs feel shaky and weak, but he couldn’t quite tell which one of the three it was.

He paused, crouched over what looked like a ceramic pot half-buried in the dirt, and glanced at Eli. He stood not far away, his arms crossed over his chest and his back straight, gazing out over the desolate landscape as if he belonged here. As if he owned it. The solar flares didn’t seem to affect _him_ at all. 

Sighing through his nose, Thrawn turned back to the ceramic pot. He brushed the dirt off its surface as gently as he could; a drop of cold sweat trickled down his nose and he wiped it away absently with the back of his hand, focused entirely on excavating this artifact without damaging it. He could tell from the curl of faience along the side that it was almost certainly a Lasat piece, the first they’d come across since they landed. And if that was so—

Red light flashed over the horizon. Thrawn winced, ducking his head; he held the brush up before his eyes as if he could use it to block out the sun. When the light faded again, he shook his head, still seeing black spots everywhere, and turned back to his work.

He noticed the low rumble behind him only belatedly. 

It was so unlike any sound he’d heard from Eli before that at first he didn’t know where it was coming from. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Eli standing in the same spot as before, and looked past him without a second thought. When he heard the low rumble again, Thrawn’s fingers loosened involuntarily, dropping the brush into the dirt.

He felt a cold pit of fear open up in his stomach — the instinct of a prey animal hearing its predator, knowing it has nowhere to hide. Adrenaline spiked, but when he looked around, he still saw nothing — no wild beasts approaching them, no hostile fighters anywhere to be seen.

And then, unwillingly, his eyes tracked back to Eli and he felt a jolt go through him.

Eli was staring right back at him.

And Eli had _changed_.

Thrawn stood, his legs weak, and stared back at the yellow-tinted eyes only a few meters away. His gaze tracked down — past the open hunger in Eli’s eyes to the open lips, the long, canine teeth curving out over them — to the tension vibrating through every one of Eli’s muscles, making him look more powerful — more dangerous — than Thrawn had ever seen him before.

He stumbled back half a step. Dimly, he felt the crunch beneath his boot and knew he had stepped on the ceramic pot he’d spent the past hour trying to salvage. He ordered himself to keep moving, to move _faster_ , to turn and run, but couldn’t force himself to do it.

Not with Eli staring him down like that. 

“Commander…?” Thrawn started. He heard the waver in his own voice and stopped talking, swallowing past a dry throat. Eli hadn’t so much as taken one step toward him — yet his fight-or-flight response was fully activated, every nerve in his body screaming at him to go. He glanced at the horizon, refusing to turn his head in case Eli moved while he was distracted.

It was the solar flare that caused this, he realized belatedly. Whatever the Imperial lab had cooked up for those capsules, it hadn’t worked — at least, not on Eli. Not for this long under the Lupal star. He remembered the horror stories he’d heard of this moon, of expeditionary teams just like his changing into something monstrous beneath the red light. Of good, upstanding men like Eli Vanto losing control of themselves, giving into their most brutal, animalistic urges.

He was still watching the horizon when the next solar flare came.

This time, Thrawn turned and ran as fast as he could, and Eli—

Eli let him run.

Heart pounding, Thrawn made for the shuttle, dodging abandoned shelters and half-buried bits of debris. He could hear his own breathing, harsh and shallow, and his pulse thumping in his ears. He couldn’t say why he’d chosen to run — chosen not to stay and fight or try to talk Eli down. It was pure instinct, the sort of thing he couldn’t fight if he wanted to. Not right now. 

He was only thirty meters from the shuttle, maybe less, when he heard Eli charging after him, his footsteps impossibly fast. 

He wasn’t letting Thrawn escape, he realized. He was giving him a head start to make the chase more thrilling.

Like an animal toying with its food.

Two more meters — and another — and then Thrawn felt claws sink into his back and knew he was done. 

He slammed to the dirt, hands coming up to protect his face just in time to avoid a broken nose. He barely registered that small victory — that low rumbling sound, that feral growl from Eli, was filling his ears, so deep and so loud that it seemed to be filling Thrawn from the inside, making him vibrate — making him tremble and cower against the ground. He covered his face, felt his uniform tear beneath Eli’s fingers. 

Razor-sharp claws sliced right through his skin like it was nothing, leaving deep rivulets between his shoulder blades. Thrawn flinched, got one arm out from under himself, tried to find purchase on the dirt so he could crawl away. A weight came down on his hips before he could even try it. 

He felt Eli’s breath hot on the back of his neck — felt an impossibly long cock pressing against the small of his back — and squeezed his eyes closed.

When the next solar flare came, Thrawn rolled over, grabbed Eli’s wrists while he was distracted by the light, and used his opportunity to…

...to submit.

He stared up at Eli, his stomach bared, his entire body trembling. There was nothing recognizable in Eli’s face now. His nose had elongated into a snout, with thick, dark fur covering his skin from head to toe. He didn’t look human at all, anymore. Eyes wide, Thrawn catalogued each and every difference, unable to believe it but seeing it all just the same. He felt his fingers squeeze around Eli’s wrist, trying unsuccessfully to push him away — but with a strength ten times greater than Thrawn’s, Eli sunk his claws down into Thrawn’s chest.

And Thrawn had _submitted_ to him. Why? He panted, grimacing through the pain as Eli raked his claws from Thrawn’s collar bones down to his navel. He didn’t fight back; he _couldn’t_ fight back. His body wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t obey his orders to fight or run away; he lay on his back like a frightened animal submitting to its alpha, helpless to fight against the instincts that kept him here.

With another rumbling growl, Eli tore into Thrawn’s tunic, ripping what remained of it to shreds. His teeth glinted in the red light; his eyes were crazed, inhuman — unabashedly hungry. Thrawn stared into them, felt himself shaking so hard that he was amazed Eli could hold him still.

And when Eli lowered his mouth with his new fangs bared, Thrawn didn’t fight back. He bared his throat instinctively, turning the vulnerable flesh there up to meet Eli’s teeth. His body went limp, his muscles like water, the shivering fading in the face of a new type of helplessness that he couldn’t even fathom, a helplessness so great that it overrode even involuntary tremors.

He felt Eli’s breath on his throat, hot and wet. Fangs scraped almost gently against his skin. And then, rather than strike — rather than kill him then and there — Eli sat back without harming Thrawn at all.

Pinned to the ground beneath Eli, Thrawn felt a strange sense of warmth and wetness between his legs and couldn’t figure out what it was. It took him longer than it should have to recognize the feeling and realize he was pissing himself, that he'd lost control of himself while Eli’s teeth were at his throat. A fear response, or maybe something worse — like a dog showing obedience to its master. He smelled the ammoniac scent of urine on the air and whimpered, turning his face away — unwilling to face it, unable to believe where he was, what he’d done. He could feel his bladder draining still, involuntarily, and he could feel Eli’s eyes on the spreading dark patch between his legs, watching him with a predatory hunger that only seemed to grow.

His piss hadn’t even begun to cool yet when Eli’s claws sank into his hips and he tore the rest of Thrawn’s uniform away. He buried his snout in Thrawn’s underwear, snuffling at the soaked material; his nose pressed up against Thrawn’s cock and he could feel every breath Eli took through the fabric of his underwear, hot and animalistic against him. He whimpered again, unable to help himself.

But unable to turn away, either. Unable to do anything but lie on his back and submit.

He didn’t protest when Eli tore his underwear away. There was nothing he could do, he realized. Whatever the solar flare was, it had affected both of them — he knew that now — just in different ways. Bringing out the alpha in Eli. Making Thrawn more subservient. 

A light tremor went through him as Eli’s hands found their way to Thrawn’s thighs, digging into the jagged claw marks he’d left there a moment before. Pain lanced through Thrawn, making his back arch — and involuntarily, without even thinking about it, he spread his legs wider, exposing himself to Eli — to his _aide_ , to his only friend — and practically begging to be taken.

He got only one quick glimpse of Eli’s cock — too long, too wide, and dripping with an entirely inadequate amount of pre-cum — before it shoved inside him. Thrawn arched his back — felt himself stretching too wide, too fast — and felt a scream tear through his throat, humiliating and loud.

There was no mercy from Eli. He pulled back before Thrawn could adjust and thrust in again, the friction almost unbearable. With a moan, Thrawn spread his legs farther, desperate to get this over with, desperate to survive with as little pain as possible.

Desperate, he realized, more than anything, to please his alpha.

He rocked his hips against Eli, pulling him closer, until Eli’s teeth were at his throat again and he could smell the musk of Eli’s new-grown fur. He felt the point of Eli’s cock thrusting deep inside him, to areas no one else — certainly no other human — had ever touched before. He curled his fingers in Eli’s fur, gripping him closer, wrapped his legs around Eli’s waist—

—and felt the blunt head of Eli’s cock spear right to his prostate. Thrawn groaned, pleasure lighting up his vision and almost drowning out the pain. He came back to himself when Eli thrust in again, felt claws ripping the skin on his shoulders open and rocked his hips almost without wanting to, welcoming the pain, pulling Eli deeper. 

And unbelievably — against his will — he felt his own cock start to fill. 

“Eli…” he breathed, his voice little more than a sob. With a growl that resonated through Thrawn’s chest, Eli shoved him back down into the dirt, his claws slamming Thrawn’s head back so hard he saw stars. Thrawn’s teeth clashed together, drawing a sting of blood from his lip as Eli thrust again. 

Thrawn shifted, his back against the dirt, trying to angle his hips just right for Eli. He kept his hands above his head, palms open, nonthreatening and obedient — and felt his own cock brush against his stomach, fully hard. 

Eli pulled back and thrust back in again, setting a rhythm so frantic and so feral that it left Thrawn wincing, feeling jarred — like he was rocketing through atmospheric pressure in a TIE fighter without shields instead of being fucked. His head struck the ground again, and inside him he felt pressure building — heat compounding upon itself — Eli’s cock tearing its way through him without any regard for his safety, his well-being, his pleasure—

And then Eli’s cock struck that sweet spot inside Thrawn again and he came hard, come spraying over his stomach and chest, painting his blue skin with dots of white. He gasped, his lungs shutting down for a moment, leaving him physically unable to breathe — and the whole time Eli kept going, never pausing once.

When Thrawn’s post-orgasm daze faded, he realized there was a reason for that. Eli’s cock was only getting larger; it seemed to be filling him impossibly, expanding and lengthening with every thrust. His cock was pressed firmly against Thrawn’s prostate now, leaving Thrawn squirming and gasping as his own cock jumped back to life. But the pressure didn’t stop, not even when Eli pulled his hips back and thrust in again, and Thrawn was barely even half-hard when his whole body tensed again. Another orgasm, this one dry, set his nerves on fire — and still, the pressure on his prostate didn’t let up. 

It wasn’t pleasurable anymore, Thrawn realized. Very quickly, it had become agony. He shifted, whimpering, but no matter where he moved, Eli’s cock was impossible to escape. It filled him completely, pressing up against every overstimulating nerve, driving right past the border of pleasure and into pain. Thrawn gasped out a sob, suddenly not so sure he wanted to submit to this — suddenly not sure he could— 

But before he could try to stop Eli, try to get away, Eli went rigid. His cock, still pressed against Thrawn’s prostate, pulsed with warmth as he came with a rumbling, feral howl. Thrawn stilled beneath him, hyper-aware of the tears cooling on his face and the shallow up-and-down movement of his chest. He felt Eli’s cock start to soften inside him; all he could see of Eli’s face was his upturned jaw.

And then, just as another solar flare came over the horizon, Eli looked down. His face was unchanged; the new growth of fur still covered his cheeks, and his fangs dripped with saliva.

But his eyes … his eyes weren’t yellow anymore. They were a warm, intelligent, familiar brown. He looked down at Thrawn’s ripped uniform, at the bloody claw marks on his chest and shoulders, at Eli’s cock sunk deep between his legs.

Within thirty seconds, the change was complete.

Eli was back.

* * *

They stumbled into the shuttle without a word and set course for the _Chimaera_ , leaving what few artifacts they’d found behind. Eli sat in the pilot’s seat, his uniform ripped at a few of the seams but otherwise unchanged. His eyes were distant, his face slack with horror, maybe. Or with guilt.

Thrawn sat in the passenger’s seat, his uniform ruined, and tried not to tremble. He kept his face blank even when he felt Eli’s gaze burning into him. Even when Eli’s eyes flickered down to the damp spot between Thrawn’s legs and he grimaced in pity, an expression that Thrawn simply couldn’t bear.

He stared out the window, more humiliated than he had ever been in his life, and watched the moon of Lupal fade away beneath them. 


End file.
